Memories
by Starship T.A.R.D.I.S
Summary: A man wakes up in central London, with only one memory: 221B Baker Street.
1. Chapter 1

A man bolted awake from his sleep. He blinked slowly in the bright summer sunshine. Summer. Sun. Warmth. Much too warm for the heavy overcoat he was wearing. Why was he wearing an overcoat? Last he remembered... The man's thoughts trailed off. He didn't remember. He remembered nothing, save for a few moments ago when he woke up. He had to know something, someone, anything! Nothing. He searched his mental recesses again. This time, he found something. An address. 221 B Baker Street. He slipped the overcoat over his arm as he started walking.

The doorbell rang at 221 B Baker Street. The sound of someone playing a violin was heard as an older women opened the door.

"Are you here to see Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked the man standing at the doorstep.

"Uh, yeah." the man said, confused. Who was Sherlock? Wasn't this address his flat?

"Well, come on in. I don't know if he's taking any cases today though. He's been rather unsociable lately, not that he ever really is one for conversation." Mrs. Hudson said, opening the door up to let the man in.

"Sherlock, someone's here to see you!" Mrs. Husdon called up to Sherlock's flat. People came at all hours of the day now, during afternoon tea, for shame! She had just settled down to her own cup when the doorbell rand.

"I'm composing." came the curt reply from Sherlock.

"Oh, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson replied, dissatisfied with the detective's lack of interest in a new case. He used to love them, but then John got busy with Mary and their daughter, and Sherlock stopped going out. Hadn't left the flat in weeks.

"Well, come on in I suppose. Sherlock will be ready for you in a few minutes, won't he?" the last part of Mrs. Hudson's comment was directed at Sherlock, and no response was heard from him.

The two settled down in the sitting room of Mrs. Hudson's flat and waited for the elusive detective to stop composing and start sleuthing. Mrs. Hudson attempted to make polite conversation with the man, but he didn't seem to want to talk much, or at least didn't answer the questions that she asked. Perhaps he was a "I'll only talk to Sherlock" type. Either way, the man was a puzzle.

"What _is_ it Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock said as he entered the sitting room.

"I'm not an it, I'm a he!" the man said.

"Oh. Well then, _who_ is it?" Sherlock replied.

"I don't know. That's the problem. I don't know who I am. I don't remember anything, except this address. 221B Baker Street. I don't know why. I thought it was my house, I thought it was something important, but then I show up here and nothing. Nothing familiar, nothing that I even recognize. I know what things are but—"

"Stop there." Sherlock interrupted him. "Your clothes, at least seven years out of date. Your coat, much to heavy for summer. You're clean shaven. Unscuffed shoes. No memories."

"That about sums it up." The man started to say

"Stop thinking, I can feel it and it is distracting." Sherlock turned in a slow circle. His mind was at work. Remembering nothing, except for one thing. That didn't happen in naturally. This memory loss, the out of date clothes, they were connected. Somehow. Sherlock didn't know how, and that scared him. He had returned a few weeks ago because Moriarty was back. At least, that was how the evidence pointed to. They hadn't heard anything from him. It would have been possible to survive the bullet would, had he been given the right medical care in time. If he had, then he was back. If not, then there was someone else here at play. Someone who liked to play games. This man might be a piece in the game.

"Amnesia." was the detective's conclusion.

"What?" the man replied.

"Amnesia. Quite simple really. Memory loss, in a shortened way of putting it. You forgot who you are, nearly seven years ago."

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Hi! Yes, this is the fourth miltichap fic going on at the same time, and yes, most of my stories are on hiatus because of busy summer plans. Sorry about that. Updates will be few and far between, but I'm excited to post my first venture into Sherlock fan fiction! Please review, favorite, and follow! Starship T.A.R.D.I.S. out!


	2. Chapter 2

"Amnesia." was the detective's conclusion.

"What?" the man replied.

"Amnesia. Quite simple really. Memory loss, in a shortened way of putting it. You forgot who you are, nearly seven years ago."

"What?" the man said again, more confused.  
"It's quite simple, really. You went through some sort of accident,  
and you can't remember anything."  
"Um...alright."  
"Tell me, what do you remember?" Sherlock inquired, turning to face the man like a hunter stalking its prey.  
"I remember...I remember this address, that it's summer, that I'm in London, and not many other useful things." the man said, slightly ashamed at his lack of memories.  
"Tell me them." Sherlock commanded.  
"Alright..." the man took a deep breath and let it out slowly "Well, it's not very useful, like I said, I know what things are, and I know how to get to places, but when I think about other things, like my life before I woke up on that bench...nothing comes up. It's blank. No family, no friends, no job, nothing."  
"Very well." Sherlock replied, calm as could be.  
"Very well what?! My whole life is gone, like it never existed and like I ever existed, and you say nothing more the very well!" the man exclaimed.  
"Yes. If you will excuse me, I have a few calls to make." Sherlock said, and walked upstairs. He was soon on the phone with one John H. Watson.

"Hello?" John said, plucking his mobile out of his pocket while trying  
not to disturb his three month old daughter, who was currently using  
him as a mattress.  
"It's Sherlock. Meet me at Baker Street. I have a case."  
"Sherlock! Kathy's asleep, Mary's at the store, I can't drop everything and come solve a case!" John said, in as indignant a tone that he could use without waking Kathy.  
"You'll like this one. A bit of a medical mystery, shall we say."  
"Sherlock!"  
"John, I need a doctor. Now." Sherlock promptly hung up the phone, walked upstairs without saying a word to anyone, and picked up his violin. Now, where had he left off again? Ah, yes, measure 43. The sound of a violin started wafting through the house once more.

Half an hour later, John arrived at 221 B Baker Street, stroller in tow. He rang the bell, and Mrs. Hudson answered the door.

"John!" she cried, surprised to see her old border.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson." John said.

"Are you here to see Sherlock? He's with a case right now, well sort of, it's rather complicated." Mrs. Hudson said.

"All right. Mind if I come in?" John asked.

"Oh, of course! Did you bring your daughter along?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Yeah, Mary was at the store, and I didn't want to ask the sitter to come since I didn't know how long I would be." John confirmed, lifting the stroller containing Kathy up the steps and into the flat. He parked the stroller by the door and took the carrier out.

"Oh, isn't she precious!" Mrs. Husdon said as she looked at Kathy, who was still sleeping. The little girl had John's hair and Mary's eyes.

"So, what's Sherlock gotten himself into this time?" John asked.

"Well, It would be easier to show you rather then explain it. Please, do come in." Mrs. Hudson said, gesturing to the living area of the flat.

"All right." John said amicably. He picked the baby carrier up and followed Mrs. Hudson to her living room.

"Hello John." Sherlock said, rising from his seat.

"Uh, yeah, Sherlock, what did you want me for?" John asked, confused.

"The simple explanation is that I need a doctor. The longer explanation is that this man here showed up at Baker Street this afternoon. He doesn't remember his name or where he's from. He claims that the only thing he remembers is this address." Sherlock explained. John moved from the doorway and sat down, putting Kathy on the floor.

"So...what do you need me to do?" John asked, wondering what his mysterious purpose was in being called to Baker Street.

"I need you to run some tests. See if there's any brain damage or something. Something that could explain the amnesia. He says he doesn't remember if anything happened to him." Sherlock said.

"Right. Who is this 'he'?" John asked.

"That would be me." The man said. He had been silent throughout the conversation between John and Sherlock, and had been waiting for an appropriate time to interject.

"Hello. I'm John." John said, now realizing that the man sitting in the chair next to him was not in fact Sherlock's new flat mate.

"Pleasure." the man said. "So, you're a doctor then?"

"Yeah. I'm a friend of Sherlock's." John confirmed. Just then, Sherlock's mobile beeped.

"It's Molly. I have a case. You two have a nice chat, I'm going to the morgue."

* * *

Hi! It's been a while. Next time, plot twists abound! Remember to review, favorite, and follow! Starship T.A.R.D.I.S. out!


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock briskly strode into the morgue, where Molly was waiting for him in examination room one.

"I just got him out of the cooler, I thought you would want to look at him first." Molly said, as she unzipped the body bag, revealing the contents.

"Yes, I would." Sherlock said calmly, and walked to the front of the table where the body lay.

"He was found in a park, in plain view. Had an over coat next to him. That's here." Molly said, holding up a sealed evidence bag. "The lab tech is going to take a look at it when he gets in Wednesday. He left early today, something about his cousin's wedding. Sherlock...?" Molly's voice trailed off as it became apparent the detective wasn't listening to her. "Sherlock, what's going on?"

"I need to make a call." Sherlock said brusquely, and headed for the hallway. He went up the stairs, and stood outside of St Bartholomew's Hospital.

John's mobile rang in the living room of Baker Street. "Sorry, one moment." John said, interrupting his conversational partner, the amnesic man. "Hello?"

"John. Get to St Barts as soon as you can. Bring the amnesiac too."

"What's going on?" John asked, confused.

"It's hard to explain."

"Sherlock, I need to know!"

"Just come here. It's important."

"I swear, if you're having a fit about writing a speech again, I'll—" John broke off as he heard the dial tone. He shook his head slowly and sighed.

"Right, we're going on a field trip." John said.

"What?" the amnisiac asked.

"You heard me, we're going to...er...somewhere that's not here." John said, not wanting to scare the amnisiac man who sat before him with the thought of going to the morgue. To be honest, the place gave _him_ the creeps, and he'd survived three years in Afganistan. Just then, his mobile rang again.

"What _is_ it this time?!" John nearly shouted, fed up with Sherlock's mysterious antics.

"That's not exactly the politest thing to say to your wife." Mary said, though she knew John didn't really mean it.

"Sorry love. Sherlock was just being...Sherlock."

"It's all right. Where are you? I thought you were watching Kathy."

"I'm at Baker Street at the moment, Sherlock has a new case. Kathy's here too."

"Again." Mary sighed.

"Yeah. Could you come and pick Kathy up, Sherlock's at the morgue and wants me to meet up with him, and that's really no place for a baby."

"Sure. I'll be another hour or so, Selfridges is having a sale on the most _adorable_ baby clothes and I have to get there yet."

"You're shopping again? We're going to have to make another baby to use all the clothes you buy."

"I can't say I would mind." Mary said. John coughed, and blushed slightly. He could _feel_ Mary smiling through the phone call .

"Right, do you mind if I leave Kathy with Mrs. Hudson? Sherlock made it seem pretty urgent."

"Sure, I'll bring her some cookies or something as a thank you."

"Thanks. Gotta go, love you."

"Love you too." Mary said, and ended the call. John put his mobile back into his pocket and turned the the amnesiac.

"Sherlock wants us to meet him somewhere, he said it was urgent." John said.

"All right. Any idea what it's about?"

"None. He tends to be rather mysterious, it's a habit of his."

"Where are you two going?" Mrs. Hudson intruded into the conversation.

"St Barts." John said.

"The morgue?" Mrs. Hudson said, narrowing her eyes at John. "That's no place for a baby you know. Surely you're not taking Kathy there."

"No, I was actually, ah, wondering if you would watch her for an hour or so while Mary finishes up shopping."

"I'm not your babysitter you know." Mrs. Hudson said. "But all right. Just this once."

"Thank you so much." John said.

Fifteen minutes later, John and the amnesiac were walking inside to the basement morgue of St Barts.

"What's going on?" John asked.

"Like I said, it's had to explain."

"Well, are you going to show us or not?" the amnesiac asked.

"This way." Sherlock said, and strode quickly into examination room one, where Molly had been conducting measurements on the body to confirm Sherlock's suspicions.

"That...that's me." The amnesiac said in astonishment. The face of the body on the gurney matched exactly the face of the man with no memories.

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Hi! Not too much of a plot twist this time, but things will definitely change next chapter. I'm bringing in a bunch of new characters from the show next time. Also next chapter, we start to line up with the last episode of season 3! Remember to review, favorite, and follow! Starship T.A.R.D.I.S. out!


	4. Chapter 4

"That...that's me." The amnesiac said in astonishment. The face of the body on the gurney matched exactly the face of the man with no memories. "But...I'm not dead. He is dead, right?"

"Yes." Sherlock confirmed.

"What, what?!" John exclaimed. "This man is dead, but he's alive. How?"

"They're not the same man." Sherlock said, his analytical mind at work.

"Well, obviously!" John huffed.

"That was all I needed you for." Sherlock said, gesturing to the amnesiac. "I only needed to confirm my suspicions."

"What suspicions?" the amnesiac asked.

"I need some time to do further analysis." Sherlock said.

"So what should we do?" John asked.

"What if we treat this like a missing persons case?" Molly said. "It would seem like there's something going on, I can search the MP database with his information and see what I can find."

"Excellent." Sherlock said. "John, can you see if you can get him into the hospital for some tests to see if there's anything to explain the memory loss?"

"Sure." John said, eager to get out of the examination room.

"Well, let's get to it." Molly said. She was eager to have something to do, there had been a surprisingly low amount of deaths this summer. She had almost been bored for a few days. There were a lot more people reported missing. Molly was dreading dealing with the decomposing remains once they were found.

Sherlock paced around the examination room. It was odd, the two men showing up in the same place, under the exact same circumstances, with one alive and one dead. Then there was the mysterious disappearances. People being snatched off the streets while walking alone at night. People from all walks of life. This was the work of someone who had nothing to lose, someone who wasn't afraid anymore. That was dangerous. If someone wasn't afraid, they couldn't be controlled—or stopped.

Molly typed into the computer, inputting the data and measurements that she had taken from the body. She hit enter, and waited for the computer to come up with possible matches. A few minutes later, one came up. Sam Cline. Molly pulled up his missing persons' report. Sam was from Sutton, reported missing June 24 by his boyfriend, when he never came home from work. Worked as a cook in a pub called The Sutton Arms. Sam also had a brother—an identical twin. The twin, Mark Cline, was reported missing by his girlfriend, when he too never came home from work. Mark lived in Sutton as well, and worked in the Sutton Ecology Centre.

"Sherlock!" Molly called, sure that the detective would want to see the readout.

"Yes?" Sherlock poked his head out of the examination room.

"You'll want to come see this." Molly said. Sherlock walked over to the computer where Molly was sitting, and glanced over her shoulder at the words on the screen.

"Interesting." Sherlock said. The parallels between the twins' disappearances were astounding. Reported missing by their significant other, lived and worked in the same town, yet showed up in a park in London—one dead, and one alive.

"Where was the park that he was found in?" Sherlock asked.

"Hampstead Heath." Molly said.

"That's the same one the amnesiac remembers waking up in." Sherlock said. "We need to compare DNA, then we can determine if the two are siblings, then it's not a far leap to twins."

"I'll take care of the body, you go see if you can track down John." Molly said. Sherlock agreed with her, then walked up the stairs from the basement morgue to the ground floor of the St Barts. The main lobby was bustling with people. The screens on the walls mindlessly played a news station, subtitles scrolling past. Sherlock strode to the center information desk.

"May I help you?" the young receptionist said.

"I'm looking for a doctor, John Watson. He was running some tests on a patient." Sherlock said.

"All right, one moment please." the receptionist quickly typed into her keyboard. "Looks like he's in room 351, the MRI suite."

"Thanks." Sherlock said. He turned around and started walking towards the stairs. His attention, however, was caught by a change in the TV. The volume suddenly spiked, the news station gone. It it's place was the head of someone long thought dead: Jim Moriarty.

"Miss me?"

* * *

Hi! I have to say, I think this is the best chapter so far in the fic. Next time, we'll be seeing more of Moriarty, and maybe finding more about the twins. Remember to follow, favorite, and review! Starship T.A.R.D.I.S. out!


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